“Have a nice day!” I yelled toward him as he drove off, his tires kicking up a spray of mud and snow.
I was glad the animal had been gutted properly. I unhooked the deer and disassembled the come-along. Kona didn’t like to share his quarters. He trotted over to the passenger door. I grabbed hold of a hunk of his black fur and tugged it playfully. Then I opened the door. “Think you’re going to ride up front with me, huh?” Kona leapt in, pawed a tight circle, and settled down.
I called the DOW to see if there were any wardens out my way but didn’t have any luck. I’d have to drive the carcass to town. I was about to head back to Rio Mesa when my cell phone rang.
“Pru, it’s Colm. Where are you?”
“The middle of Piceance Basin with a headless deer in the back of my Tahoe. Where are you?”
“Listen, Dean found the vehicle. No hunter, no body, just the truck. How long till you can get out there?”
“I’ll need to drop the carcass off first.”
“Call the DOW,” Colm said.
“I did. There’re no wardens out this way. Most of them are up in the forest. I’m supposed to drop it off at the station.”
“What about the warden over in Rangely?”
“That’d be Wally Henderson.” I’d already started the truck and was pulling out. Kona’s neck was stretched over the console, his head tucked in the crook of my arm. “Go ahead and give Wally a call,” I told Colm, knowing I’d lose signal soon. “Have him meet me at the intersection of 64 and 139. Tell him we got another gift for the food bank. Have Dean meet me there, too. I’ll follow Dean out to the vehicle. Maybe Kona can track something. Any snow out there?” I asked.
“As much as a foot in spots. Mostly fresh.”
Kona was avalanche certified. Still, fresh accumulation made any search more difficult. “We’ll give it our best shot,” I said.
Piceance Basin is a rolling expanse of knolls and ravines. I stared out over the thickening snow as my truck climbed a steep knob spotted with sage and juniper.
I’d already listened to the weather. Twenty-to thirty-mile-per-hour winds, with gusts up to forty. Temperatures were expected to drop to the low teens by nightfall, the clear skies being a sure indicator. Northwestern Colorado was known for its strong winds, currents that swept out the canyons and gulches, twisting and shaping the vegetation.
“Will you be able to get a helicopter in there?” I asked.
“One of the reserve guards in Rangely has a chopper ready. As long as the weather holds out.”
“What about a physical description of the woman?”
“Around five-six. A hundred and thirty pounds. Blond hair. And let’s hope to God she was wearing orange.”
I worried about the cold. Hypothermia would have already been a likely factor. And with the reduction in body temperature came erratic behavior. They’d have to find tracks. No telling where the woman might have wandered if she hadn’t been thinking straight. A standard-issue lighter could save a person’s life. It was amazing how few people in this country carried one. But then again maybe the woman had been able to build a fire.
The connection was breaking up. “I’m losing you,” I said. “I’ll check in with you later.”
Colm was sheriff of Paisaje County. The town of Rangely, about sixty miles west of Rio Mesa in an expanse of high desert and sage, fell within his jurisdiction. I drove with my windows partway down to keep the carcass cool. The sun and wind burned my cheeks as my hair whipped across my face.
I removed the glove from my right hand, rubbed my palm over the smooth area above Kona’s brow, his black hair warmed by the sun. Kona and I were a good fit, but it hadn’t always been that way. He was an alpha, and I was determined to be one, so neither of us was eager to let go and give in.
“Get a dog,” Angie at the movie store had told me just three months after Joseph and I had lost Molly, the border collie I’d had since before Joseph was born. Angie, with her thick German accent, who kept dog treats behind the movie rental store counter.
“Down the road,” I said. “It’s not the right time.”
“Me, I always say a dog can get a person through anything. Get a dog,” Angie said again.